


The Dark Before the Dawn

by TrekTraveler



Series: The Samantha MacKade Chronicles [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22472680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekTraveler/pseuds/TrekTraveler
Summary: It was desperation that had Sam MacKade contacting Dr. Julian Bashir. She wasn't charmed by the over eager medical officer, as so many women on DS9 were. In fact, she found him annoying enough that she avoided him whenever possible. The plain truth was that she needed a doctor and a friend, could she allow Julian to do what he does best? *Warning for brief descriptions of rape*Please read and review, its been a long while since I've written and even longer since I've published.  Feedback is most welcome :)
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Original Character(s), Julian Bashir/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Samantha MacKade Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616893
Comments: 20
Kudos: 18





	1. House Call

Dr. Julian Bashir sat in his office, busily entering data for his daily report when his combadge sounded.

“MacKade to Bashir.”

Julian paused to tap the badge, “Bashir here.”

The voice of DS9’s Scientific Advisor was steady, if a bit soft as it came through, “Dr. would you mind stopping by my quarters after your shift ends?”

He frowned with concern. Samantha MacKade was brilliant but stubborn and certainly no fan of his. Most annoying man this side of the wormhole was the quote Chief O’Brien had given him. Hell, it had taken an act of God to get her to the infirmary for a physical. Now she was asking for him directly? “Sam? What’s wrong?”

“Just when you’ve got a moment,” was the tight reply, “No rush, MacKade out.”

Julian was instantly on his feet, medical kit in hand. She had told him not to rush but something in her tone suggested otherwise. He was at her door buzzing the chime in three minutes flat.  
The door hissed open, revealing the occupant on the other side. She was a beautiful woman who’s many attributes were not lost on the doctor. Tall and slim with deep green eyes that sparkled like emeralds and always seemed to be challenging him. Normally she was clad in black, her clothes close fitting, durable and practical with a bit of an edge. Tonight, quite the opposite, a simple wrap tunic and pants set woven of aqua blue Tholian silk. Her brunette hair typically tied back fell in long, loose waves over her shoulders. She looked quite vulnerable to Julian.

Sam gave a small smile, “I should have known you’d be quick. Please, come in.”

Julian entered, taking note of her pale complexion and tense features, “You had me concerned, what’s going on?”

She held his gaze for a long moment before relenting to her better judgement, “I need your help,” she said at last.

Before he could press further, she turned her back to him. With a heavy sigh she untied the belt of her tunic, her movements were slow and stilted as she slipped the garment off her shoulders and down her back. She wore nothing underneath and Julian could see why. A dozen deep, angry lashes crisscrossed her back leaving the flesh badly bruised, broken and bloody.  
“My God.”

Sam cast a glance over her shoulder then to the floor, crossing her arms defensibly over her breasts, “I didn’t want to go to the infirmary. Too many people.”

Julian led her to the sofa, immediately administering a heavy dose of pain killers before focusing his medical expertise on repairing the damaged tissue. At the first contact of the dermal regenerator to her skin Sam flinched, her breath catching. He instantly stilled his movements, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Sam didn’t reply but took a large sofa cushion and held it tightly against her chest. Julian gently laid a hand on her shoulder hoping to offer a bit of comfort. At her slight nod, he continued his work. He went slowly, taking care to cause as little discomfort as he could as he mended the broken flesh. It was nearly an hour before he was finished, and she had said nothing as he worked.   
Satisfied that no infection had set in, he helped her slip the tunic on, “You will likely be stiff for a few days, antioxidant rich fluids will help speed the healing along.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she quietly replied. After tying the tunic closed, she turned to face him.  
Julian reached for Sam’s cold hands which she held clamped tightly together in her lap. Every muscle in her body was tight with tension as if relaxing meant falling apart all together. “I wish you had called me sooner, no good comes from suffering.”

Sam couldn’t take the Julian’s kindness. The sympathy in his velvet brown eyes grated on her raw nerves. She withdrew her hands and stood to pace, “Its fine, you had a job to do.”

“I’m a doctor, caring for people is my job, that includes you.”

Sam crossed her arms tightly across her chest as she walked the room. She was trying her best to brush away his concerns, but the events of the past several days were pressing in on her now. She felt like a piece of brittle glass, fragile. Ready to shatter any moment. Julian had repaired the external damage, but inside she was far from healed. “I know, I know, of course … you’re a brilliant doctor I… I just… I’m fine.”

Julian crossed the room, his concern growing. He gently took hold of her shoulders to stop her pacing, “Sam, stop.”

Even now, forced to be still, she refused to meet his worried gaze, “I’m fine. Honestly, I’m okay.”

“Samantha, look at me,” he instructed, his voice soft.

Finally, her eyes raised to meet his. The pain and brokenness he saw reflected in the green depths took his breath away and nearly caused him to miss how dilated her pupils were, “Sam?”

“I’m fine!” she insisted, panic edging into her voice, “I’m fine, never better, all good! Tip… top…” Suddenly her words trailed off.

“Damn!” Julian bit off an oath as Sam’s eyes rolled back and she collapsed into his arms. He easily swept her up and carried her back to the sofa. She didn’t stir as Julian made his examination; the tricorder confirmed what he already knew. Pulse weak, breathing shallow, body temperature lowered, all signs of shock. 

Julian cursed himself for his foolishness as he settled a thermal blanket over Sam’s still form. It was ridiculous to think that she’d made it through a week on that Cardassian prison transport vessel without a scratch. After all, Captain Sisko was still recovering from his injuries in the infirmary, from all accounts the two of them had barely escaped with their lives. Julian Bashir was the chief medical officer and a seasoned doctor besides; he should have insisted on an examination the minute she set foot back on DS9. His error in judgement had resulted in her deteriorated condition, and he hated himself for it. 

He quickly administered another hypospray to counter the shock, yet it was several minutes before Sam showed signs of improvement.

Consciousness came back to her all at once. She bolted upright, sending Julian’s tricorder flying. Her gaze wild and unfocused seemed to look straight through him.

Julian rushed to calm her, “Sam, its alright. You’re safe.”

Sam said nothing, her panicked eyes darted around the room either not recognizing her surroundings or not trusting them to be true.

“Sam… Samantha,” Julian tried again, his voice calm and steady. He framed her pale face in his hands, gently but firmly forcing her to look at him, “Samantha, its Julian. Can you hear me?”

She blinked several times, recognition finally registering on her features, “ Julian?”

He nodded.

Her brows knit together in confusion, “Where am I?”

“You’re on the sofa in your quarters,” Julian explained, taking her wrist in his fingers to measure her pulse which he was relieved to find growing stronger.

She frowned still not entirely sure if she believed that she was indeed back home. The mind could play tricks, especially if the heart wanted something bad enough. 

Julian studied her for a moment, uncertainty plain on her face, “Where did you think you were?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to her lap.

“You were back on that prison ship, weren’t you?”

“No. I don’t know… maybe?” Sam shook her head, trying to clear her muddled thoughts, “I don’t remember much after calling you.”

“You’ve experienced a trauma, its natural that your memory would be a bit fuzzy,” Julian reasoned, “But you are safe here, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It was at that moment that the true weight of her experience on that god forsaken freighter truly hit. Her eyes welled with tears and her voice broke on a word, “Julian…”

The doctor drew Sam into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. She trembled; her whole frame wracked with silent sobs while her tears soaked the front of his uniform.

“Its alright, you’re safe now,” Julian whispered, tucking her head under his chin as if comforting a small child. He repeated those words over and over again, knowing just how much she needed to hear and believe them. 

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, eventually she stopped shaking and her tears dried. She drew back and regarded him with shadowed eyes and a rather sheepish expression, obviously uncomfortable having such an unguarded moment in front of him. In the absence of the warmth Julian’s embrace provided, she shivered, “Cold?”

She lifted a shoulder, “A bit.”

“I know just the thing,” he said, crossing the room to the replicator. He soon returned to her side with a pot of tea, two cups and a selection of biscuits arranged on a tray. “Tarkalean tea,” Julian announced, pouring a cup and handed it to her. “One of the most perfect beverages in the known universe and full of medicinal properties.”

Sam gratefully accepted the steaming cup. Taking a sip, she sputtered slightly, “Wow!”

Julian looked up from his own cup, “Too hot?”

“Sweet,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “How much sugar did you put in that?”

“The perfect amount, thank you very much,” he told her with authority, “Just try a biscuit with it, you’ll see.”

Sam arched a skeptical brow before popping a macaroon into her mouth. Contemplating the flavor, she shook her head, “You have the culinary palate of a ten-year-old.”

“A sophisticated ten-year-old,” he protested, taking a biscuit for himself.

She smiled in spite of herself and proceeded to finish two more cups of tea.

Julian was pleased to see a faint blush of color return to her cheeks. Tarkalean tea, a medical marvel indeed.

Sam set her cup back on the tray, grateful to feel warm again for the first time in a week. Julian seemed content to drink his tea in a companionable, yet uncharacteristic silence. During her time on the station she had never known the chief medical officer to hold his tongue. The man was constantly yammering on about whatever popped into his head, an infuriating habit. With his lanky build, big brown eyes and make friends first ask questions later personality, he reminded her of an over eager Labrador. With that warmth from his famous tea came a sudden and strong wave of fatigue. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Julian smiled with understanding, “Don’t apologize, you’re exhausted. You need rest and plenty of it.” He stood and offered Sam a hand, “Time for bed.”

Too tired to argue, Sam took his hand, “I think I can make it on my own,” she said, betrayed by the fact that she swayed just standing there.

Julian wrapped a supportive arm around her waist, “Humor me, hmm?”

Sam’s eyelids were already starting to droop by the time Julian was drawing the soft blanket up to her chin, “Do you tuck all of your patients into bed?”

“Standard procedure,” he replied with a smile, “For a house call.”

“Thank you, Julian,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut.

“Rest,” he advised kindly, “I’ll be in the next room if you need me.”

“Mmm… okay.”

Julian, ever the physician, made another scan with his tricorder just to be sure she was indeed stable. Satisfied with the results, he whispered, “Sleep well,” before letting himself out of her bedroom to make a place for himself to sleep on the sofa.


	2. Bad Dreams are Made of This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some wounds are more than skin deep and much harder to heal.

Sam had been held captive aboard the Cardassian freighter for a full week. She had been separated from Captain Sisko almost immediately upon their arrival. According to snippets of conversation she managed to overhear, he was still alive, but it was anyone’s guess for long. She had no tangible way to confirm that fact although experience taught her to never underestimate that man. 

Suddenly, the door to her cell was thrown open and one of the angrier Cardassian guards grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her down the hallway. She tried to walk alongside him rather than be dragged but her legs simply wouldn’t cooperate and she ended up tripping over her own clumsy feet. Her captor never broke his stride or even seemed to notice her struggle. It was a daily occurrence. At first she had resisted, fought back with insults and any defense techniques that came to mind but after days without food and little water, she had to reserve what strength she had left for the opportunity of escape.

The guard grabbed her wrist and flung her to the wet ground. Like the rest of the barge, the room was cold, wet, dimly lit and reeked of sweat, urine and god knew what else. The chill of the floor seeped through her clothes and into her very bones causing her to shiver almost immediately. What she wouldn’t give for a cup of hot bath and a steaming cup of tea. I’m burning these clothes the minute I get back to the station, she thought, no amount of laundering would erase the filth and grime that had been ground into them during this little escapade. Pity, these were once her favorite pants. 

Typically, this would be when the guard would bind her hands above her head, stretching her to the point that her toes only just touched the ground and then the beatings would begin. As Sam sat on the damp, grated floor with her back to her captor, she began to realize that it was different this time. Long minutes ticked by, yet she did not move and said nothing. Her back bore the painful reminders of what would happen should she dare to turn and look. When a strange, strangled sound reached her ears it took every bit of will power to stay still with her head bowed in submission. Still, the guard did not touch her or instruct her in any way. It was unnerving. Sam would just as soon get the abuse over with, take her licks and go back to her cell and hopefully let sleep take her over. As the sound intensified, her resolve faltered and turn around she did. To her horror, the guard stood over her, slowly masturbating, staring at her with a mix of pleasure and utter disgust. 

Sam had found herself in a lot of tight spots over the years. Plenty of times when she had wondered if she was going to live to see another day, but it wasn’t often that she truly felt fear. But in that moment, she was afraid. Terror formed a tight ball in the pit of her stomach as he approached her, his penis as hard and angry as his face.

He was saying something to her, but her mind was too busy working on escape to make out the words. No windows, no weapons, little strength and a Cardassian three times her size who was making his disgusting intentions known. She didn’t know how, but she’d die before being raped. 

He was incredibly quick for a man his size and was on top of her in an instant. Pinning her painfully to the ground, his breath was rank and hot in her face, “Be sure if you scream, scream loudly.”

Julian was woken from his post on the sofa by a terror filled scream piercing the silence. Instantly alert, he was on his feet, “Computer, lights,” he commanded, entering the bedroom. He found his patient thrashing against the sheets and blankets tangled around her. Her eyes squeezed shut while tears poured down her cheeks, “No! Stop… No!”

Julian was at her side, shaking her firmly by the shoulders, “Sam wake up… You’re dreaming.”

Deep in the throes of a nightmare, Sam was unaware of him, she saw only her attacker. Desperately fighting to escape, she struck out wildly and kicked her legs with every bit of strength she had, “Get off of me!”

Julian ducked, narrowly missing her right fist as she fought against him. He had seen Sam spar with Worf on more than one occasion and knew she could do plenty of damage in her own right. But Julian was quick, grabbing both of her wrists and holding tight, “Sam… Samantha! Wake up!”

Surprising the doctor with her strength, Sam pulled and struggled against him, nearly breaking free, “No! Let me go!”

“Sam!” he tried over and over again, “Sam, you’re dreaming… wake up!”

Finally, Sam’s eyes flew open, wide and filled with panic. Her chest heaved as she gulped huge lung fulls of air, her heart thundered against her ribcage. The Cardassian was gone, replaced by a disheveled medical officer whose worried eyes bored into hers searching for recognition 

Julian shifted his grip on her wrists to her hands, hoping she would feel it was a non-threatening contact, “Samantha, it’s Julian. Are you with me?”

Sam studied his handsome face etched with warmth and concern, a stark contrast to the leering face that had haunted her dreams. She hesitated, but gave a shaky nod, “I’m with you.”

He gave her hands a squeeze before releasing them, “Good girl. Stay put, I’ll be right back.” When he returned with his medical bag and a glass of cool water, he found Sam sitting up with her back against the headboard, her knees drawn up defensively to her chin. He handed her the glass and instructed her to drink it.

Obediently, Sam took it and brought it to her mouth, she stopped just short of allowing the water to touch her lips, “Is this water?”

“A special blend actually. Full of enhanced electrolytes and antioxidants,” he answered, not looking up from his tricorder, “It will help counter dehydration.”

Sam arched a brow, “Julian?”

He met her suspicious gaze and sighed, “Along with a drop or two of Bajoran Triple Root. It’s a natural soother,” he quickly explained, “Excellent preventative for panic attacks.” 

“Ah,” was all she said before taking a generous swallow. The sweet, clear liquid soothed her raw throat and settled pleasantly in her stomach.

Julian studied Sam’s delicate profile as he weighed his options. Although he wasn’t a counselor, his training at Starfleet Medical encompassed several courses on Human psychology including trauma as a result of captivity and abuse. Dr. Telnori was the certified counselor on the station and Julian had briefly considered contacting him, but quickly decided against it. Sam hadn’t sought treatment in the Infirmary, she’d asked Julian to come to her quarters. Truth be told, he didn’t know her very well. All his previous attempts to befriend her and yes, to date her, had been neatly rebuffed. Not one to mince words, she’d made it clear… not interested. Yet despite her obvious dislike, she had still reached out to him. The plain fact was that she trusted him, at least enough to ask him for help.   
Going on instinct, he cleared his throat, “Must have been some dream, you nearly cold cocked me,” he gently prompted, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Sam kept her eyes downcast and her mouth firmly shut, and Julian watched as single, silent tear trace its way down her cheek. He shook his head, wondering if perhaps he was out of his depths after all. “What happened on that prison ship?”

“Prison ship…. Prison ship?” Sam lifted her gaze to meet his, “It wasn’t a prison ship.”

Julian frowned, “I don’t understand, Sisko said there were over 200 captives on that ship.”

“He would know. What else did he say?” she asked.

“Very little,” Julian admitted, “He’s been in and out of consciousness since you brought him back to the station.”

“Well he was right, there were people held against their will on that ship, but it wasn’t a prison ship. It was a merchant vessel.” 

“A merchant vessel,” he repeated, not yet understanding.

“Yes, a merchant vessel, a blockade runner,” she explained. “You can find then anywhere you find war. People who don’t care about right or wrong, they have loyalty only to themselves and to lining their own pockets. But in this case, the runners didn’t smuggle food or medical supplies or even ammunition. They… they smuggled people.”

Realization dawned on the doctor’s face, “A slave ship.”

“They take them, break them, recondition them, and sell them. A whole new batch of foot soldiers ready to fight for the Dominion.”

“That’s appalling,” Julian said in disgust.

“Yes,” Sam agreed, taking a deep breath before continuing. “When we were captured, they were thrilled to see Sisko’s uniform. I mean, what luck! A perfect bargaining chip for traveling through Federation space. And on the off chance they made it through undetected, a Starfleet Captain would make a fine feather in their cap when negotiating with the Dominion.”

“What about you?” Julian asked.

“I don’t wear a uniform,” she replied, the corner of her mouth quirking. She enjoyed her slightly ambiguous status regarding Starfleet. She worked alongside them, had served on their Starships, made discoveries with them, even saved worlds with them, but she was not one of them. Never had been and never would be. Samantha MacKade was a free agent, answering only to herself. “They had no idea who I was or why I was with Captain Sisko. To them, I was just another civilian. Not suitable for conversion into a foot solider and not a Starfleet officer to use as a hostage. Really, I would be just another stress on their resources. Another mouth to feed.”

“So why didn’t they just kill you?” Julian asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“They were going to execute me on the spot until the big boss got a look at me and had a better idea. Keep me alive, I’d make a fine welcome gift to their clients. Dominion soldiers who presumedly hadn’t seen a woman since the war began.”

Julian swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, disgusted with the actions of her captors. 

“I suppose even a weak, Human woman is better than no woman at all when you haven’t had shore leave in over a year. Looking back, its quite surprising that I was left alone for as long as I was,” Sam mused, gazing out the window to the star-studded space beyond, “Then again, Mr. Big Boss was very specific, mustn’t damage the goods. I mean, whipping was necessary to ensure submission, but no mangling of my… more pleasing features.”

Sam didn’t seem to be aware of Julian as she spoke, her words tumbling out in a stream of consciousness that was completely detached, almost devoid of emotion. “He hated me,” she said at length, “That last guard. To be fair, he seemed to hate everyone and I did run my mouth a lot. I’m not sure what caused the change in him that last day… I kept waiting. Just waiting for the lashing that always came but didn’t”

Julian’s heart sank, he could feel where this was going. “Did he rape you?”

Sam’s pause was long, but her answer was clear, “No. He tried but… he was so angry, so, so angry. It happened so fast, I… he was just there on top of me, pining me to the ground. His hands were huge, wrapped around my throat, squeezing it shut and for a moment, just for a moment I wished he would just do it because death would have been better than what he had in mind for me.” Sam swallowed down the shame that came with admitting such a horrible thought had crossed her mind. “He out-weighed me three times over, I hadn’t eaten in a week… no amount of self defense or combat training could overcome that.”

When Sam stopped talking, Julian took her hand and gave her a gentle squeeze, “How did you escape?”

“Sisko,” was her quick answer, “It’s a bit of a blur, everything happened so fast at that point. He took a phaser blast to the chest at point blank when we were going for a shuttle. Thankfully we were almost there by that time or I would have never been able to drag him up the ramp with me. I swear, that man weighs a metric ton.”

Julian’s thoughts traveled back to the moment the shuttle docking door had opened, revealing the battered occupants within. He had been entirely focused on Sisko who was unconscious, bleeding with several broken bones and a punctured lung. Sam had been there, wearing the Captain’s uniform jacket zipped all the way up. Blood and muck streaked across her face and matted in her hair. “I’m alright, its not mine,” she had said when Nurse Jabara had inquired after her condition. With Sisko’s condition critical, all attention was focused on him, making it easy for Sam to slip away.

“Do you have any other injuries that need to be treated?” Julian asked, his gaze flickering to her lap, “I can have Jabara…”

“No,” Sam answered a touch quickly, “No.” Seeing the question still lurking in his eyes, she sighed, “I have a level three dermal regenerator, I erased every mark he left on me. Truth be told, I wouldn’t have even called you if I could have taken care of my back myself.” She quickly downed the remaining water infusion and winced as the muscles protested the use. 

“Your throat hurts?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, setting the glass back down on the bedside table.

Julian ran his tricorder slowly over her neck and frowned at the readings, “I’m not surprised. Your trachea is severely bruised, and you have a hairline fracture on you C4 vertebrae.”

“Really?” she asked in surprise, “I didn’t even feel it until a minute ago.”

“Adrenaline,” he replied, using the Protoplaser to heal the deep, internal bruising, “Mother nature’s wonder drug, your system was flooded with it. Combined with shock, makes an excellent pain blocker.” He paused to adjust a setting before asking, “How did you get your hands in a level three? Those types of instruments are restricted to medical staff only.”

Sam cast him a side long glance, “I knew you weren’t going to like that. Quark can be very helpful if properly motivated.” 

“Ah.”

It always amazed Sam how Dr. Julian Bashir could communicate so much with just a single syllable. “Come on, you’ve seen me spar with Worf, I’d be in your infirmary on a daily basis… I’d rather just take care of it myself.”

“Good thing the rest of the crew isn’t as self-sufficient as you or there would be no need for me.”

“There will always be need for you.”

Julian looked up from his work into Sam’s fathomless green eyes. She wasn’t a woman to say something she didn’t mean. Their gazes locked and held just long enough to accent the intimacy of the moment. With a soft smile, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently positioning her head to mend the fracture, “Hold it right there.” A minute with the ocular generator was all it took, “Perfect. How does that feel?”

“Better,” she answered, relief clear in her voice.

“Infirmary to Dr. Bashir.” 

“Go ahead,” Julian answered.

“You asked to be informed when Captain Sisko regained consciousness.”

“On my way, Bashir out.”

“Duty calls,” Sam said with a smile.

Julian packed his instruments back into the medical bag, “I won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” She replied, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, “I should get going, I’m sure my lab is in sorry shape.”

Julian frowned, stopping her movements by grasping her shoulders, “Hold it, you are in no condition to go anywhere.”

“Julian, you’ve treated me… I’m just going to check in on my equipment.”

“Absolutely not,” Julian said, his tone firm, “You need to stay here and rest, give yourself a proper chance to heal.”

“I promise I won’t over do it,” she appealed to the doctor as sweetly as she could.

“Listen to me Samantha… what happened to you was a violation, a trauma. Allowing you to leave would not only be negligent but dangerous.”

Though she said nothing, Julian could tell she was far from convinced, so he pressed on, “You’re exhausted, dehydrated and malnourished. Less than six hours ago, you collapsed at my feet. Any one of those things would be cause for concern.”

“Sisko is awake and waiting on you,” Sam said, stonewalling his efforts, “You should go.”

“And he’ll wait a bit longer… I want your word.”

“What?”

“Your word,” Julian repeated, “Give me your word that you will stay here and rest.”

Sam was caught and she knew it. She may not be a uniform wearing Starfleet officer, but she was still subject to the authority of the station’s chief medical officer. He had the ultimate authority over crew members and civilians alike when it came to public health. There was no doubt in her mind that Bashir would use that authority to its fullest if he felt her health was at risk. Besides, burying herself in her work was a coward’s way out. “Fine.”

“What was that?”

Sam gritted her teeth, “When I give my word, I don’t break it. I will stay here.”

“Good,” Julian replied, snapping his bag shut, “I will be back to check on you, but don’t hesitate to call me if you experience and dizziness or pain.”

Sam shook her head and frowned up at him, “You are unbelievably stubborn.”

Julian grinned in response, “One of my finest qualities.”


	3. Solitary Confinement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian pays his favorite patient a visit and brings a surprise.

Upon entering the infirmary, Dr. Bashir found Capitan Sisko sitting up, talking to his head nurse.

Benjamin Sisko gave his chief medical officer a slight nod and a smile, “Good morning doctor.”

Bashir smiled in return, “Good morning, Sir. How are you feeling?”

“I’m in one piece,” the stoic captain replied.

“Always a positive,” Bashir returned, reading the Medical Data Pad that charted his patient’s progress throughout the night. “You’re right on track, I expect you’ll be ready to leave in a couple of days.”

“Good,” Sisko said, relief clear in his voice. “I was surprised not to see Sam MacKade here.”

Julian placed the pad back in its storage pocket, “She preferred to be treated in her quarters.”

Ben nodded his understanding. An image of Samantha MacKade presented itself in his mind. Her ripped clothing exposed intimate expanses of bloodied and bruised skin. Her eyes haunted but still so determined as they fought their way off that damned freighter. “Will she make a full recovery?”

“I believe so, provided she follows my instructions.”

“Ah well,” Sisko chuckled, then sucked in a quick breath as his recently healed ribs protested the slight movement, “That is always a point of contention with her.”

“Samantha is under my personal care sir,” Julian said, hoping to put his commanding officer’s mind at ease without betraying patient confidentiality.

“Glad to hear it,” Ben said as the rest of his officers filed into the infirmary. “Now, let’s take down that smuggler’s ring.”

Julian spent the rest of the morning debriefing with the senior officers, formulating a plan to wipe out the entire network of blockade slave ships. By midday he was able to leave the infirmary in the capable hands of his staff. He soon appeared at the door to Sam’s quarters.

“Come in,” Sam called out after the door buzzed.

Julian entered, pleased to see Sam seated on the sofa, her legs demurely tucked up beneath her, a well-worn book in her lap. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.” 

“Nope,” she replied, closing her book and setting it on the table. “You’re saving me from solitary confinement.” 

“I thought you might still be irritated with me, so I brought a peace offering,” he said, setting down a large blue bag along with his med kit.

Sam sat forward as Julian pulled several containers out of the bag. She recognized the logo of her favorite café embossed on the lid, “You brought lunch?”

“I know you’re not a big fan of replicated food,” he explained, “So I had Chalan send along some of your favorites.”

“Replicated food has no soul,” Sam said, her mouth actually salivated at the enticing aromas wafting up from the takeout containers. Her appetite had been mostly absent since returning to the station, despite being denied food during her captivity. Now her stomach rumbled unhappily and loudly, “Oh… is that Bajoran Bread Pudding?”

Julian simply smiled and handed her a spoon.

“Oh, wow,” She murmured as the first bite hit her tongue. Her eyes closed in appreciation, “I don’t know how Chalan does it, she’s like a magician or something.”

Julian chuckled, tucking into his own salad, “I’ve never seen anyone enjoy their food as much as you do.”

“Mmmm, how can they not? This is heaven on a spoon.” Sam explored the other packages, delighted to find a large container of Spiced Klemmen, which she settled on her lap, silently blessing Chalan for her culinary sorcery, “How is Captain Sisko?”

“Improving,” Julian told her, taking a generous swallow of his Tarkalean tea. “Already coordinating a strike on that blockage ring the two of you uncovered.”

She nodded, focusing her attention on her meal, “Sounds about right, that man’s tougher than Vulcan granite.”

“He asked after you,” he said softly, studying her profile.

“What did you tell him?” she asked, not looking up.

“I told him that I was monitoring your condition personally and that you were recovering.”

Sam regarded the man sitting across from her, annoying maybe but he certainly wasn’t lacking integrity. He had kept the details of her sorry state last night private and for that she was grateful. It was a small station and a bit of a rumor mill, the last thing she wanted was to rehash horrid details with well-meaning crew members. Best to leave the past in the past and move on to the next. “You didn’t tell him what a pain in the ass patient I am?”

Julian’s mouth quirked with humor, “He may have already formed that opinion based on previous experience.”

She snorted, “I’ll bet.”

Julian had been analyzing Samantha since entering her quarters. The dark smudges under her eyes and the drawn lines of her face told the story. No sleep had come after he left to check on Sisko. No surprise, given the nightmares that no doubt awaited her there. Although she wasn’t as tightly wound as she was yesterday, she was far from relaxed. Everything in her movements and tone of voice said she was desperately trying for normalcy. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to oblige her, for now anyway. 

“Once you’ve finished eating, I’d like to check your injuries, make sure the healing is on track. And then I thought you might enjoy a distraction,” he said, pulling a data stick from his pocket.

Sam’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, “Are you bribing me?”

He merely shrugged, “A good doctor has many methods of treatment at his disposal.”

Sam took the data stick, turning it over in her hand, curiosity piqued. “What’s on it?”

“A film.”

Her eyes lit with amusement, “Really? Which film?”

Julian busied himself with unpacking his tricorder and regenerator, smiling to himself but not answering.

“Are you going to make me guess?” she laughed.

“You can try,” he teased, scanning her with the tricorder, “I’ll even give you a hint, it’s from the 20th century.”

Sam raised her eyebrows, already enjoying the guessing game, “No kidding? Probably not that obscure then, only exceptional films would have survived through that length of time, changes in technology and all that.”

“A sound theory. Do you have a guess then?”

“Hmm… Goldfinger?”

“Do you honestly believe my interests to be so monotonous?” he asked with an indignant sniff, “I do venture out of the world of espionage once in a while, you know.”

“If you say so,” Sam allowed, mulling over titles in her mind and trying to match them with Julian’s tastes. What she knew of his tastes anyway. “Doctor Zhivago?”

“Now you’re just trying to insult me!”

“Come on Bashir, you are going to have to give me a bit more to go on,” Sam implored as Julian put his instruments away, “Give me a clue!”

Julian grinned, taking his sweet time drawing out the game, “All I can say is this film provided me with the most poignant piece of life advice I ever come across. Let the Wookie win.”

Sam’s face lit up, “Oh you are kidding me! Really?! I love that movie!” She jumped up to put the stick into the computer interface. “You can stay right? Watch it with me?” 

He smiled and nodded, very pleased that his gift had the desired effect. “Of course, never miss a chance to learn the ways of the Force.”


	4. Catch me if you can

Sam had never been very good at sitting still. She hated to be stuck in one place, especially when there was so much to do elsewhere. Her thoughts traveled wistfully to her lab and she sighed. That was her real home, she’d spent countless hours working out the designs for it before she even set foot on the station. Everything was the perfect height for her 5’9” frame, the replicator had been programmed with all her favorites, the environmental controls set just so, the lighting was set to her standards. That had been a real trick, she remembered, the Cardassians who designed the station favored things on the shady side… in more ways than one. The whole place was set up for optimal output and inspiration. Scientific discovery was as much an art as anything else. 

It had been three days since she had gotten back to the station, combined with her regrettable stint on the Cardassian freighter ship, over 10 days since she’d set foot in her lab. Unfortunately, she gave her word to that stubborn Doctor Bashir that she would yield to his authority and he had yet to release her from his care or from his orders of complete rest.

“You can rest here in your quarters or I’ll find you an open bed in the Infirmary,” Julian said the last time she’d pressed the issue, “I believe there is one open next to Captain Sisko, although I have to warn you… he snores.”

“Rest,” she thought as she poked her head out the door to her quarters into the deserted hallway, “Maybe I could just stretch the definition a bit.”

Her eyes scanned the area, she half expected Bashir to be standing guard. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she quickly made her way to the promenade. It was just a few minutes past 5 in the morning, meaning most everyone on the station was still asleep. It made the usually bustling promenade blissfully peaceful and quiet. Sam loved to run at this time of the day. She could of course, use one of the countless holodeck programs to get her miles in but she just preferred this. Not a soul in sight, her feet keeping pace with the music blasting through her earbuds, the gateway to the Gamma Quadrant hanging in the space just outside the station. It was bliss. 

With the music already flowing though the tiny speakers in her ears, Sam took a few moments to give her muscles a good stretch. Completely engrossed in her routine, she didn’t notice the Chief Medical Officer come up behind her. The two fingered tap on her shoulder had Sam spinning around, fists poised, ready to defend herself.

Julian held his hand up in truce, “Whoa!”

Sam ripped the buds from her ears, “Hells bells, Bashir! What the hell are you doing?!”

“Checking in on my favorite patient,” he replied smoothly, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

She eyed him with suspicion, irritated that she’d been caught, “How did you know I was here? Do you have me under some sort of surveillance?”

“Not as such…”

Suddenly it clicked into place, “Odo,” she ground out. 

“I may have asked the constable to keep an eye out, incase you decided to wander.” Julian fixed her with a stern look. She was clad in a sleek running outfit of black with fuchsia piping and matching sneakers and her hair was tied up in an efficient ponytail. Her intent was obvious. “Would you care to tell me how running laps around the promenade classifies as complete rest?”

“You are absolutely right, I do need to rest,” Sam replied as inspiration struck, “I need to rest my mind and this is how I do that. Running is my meditation!” 

Julian shook his head and let out a laugh, he had to give her full points for creativity.

Seeing that she had him at least partly convinced, Sam warmed to the idea and pressed on, “Come with me.”

Pure surprise registered on his face, “What?!”

“Come with me,” she said again, “Monitor me, make sure I don’t over do it. Unless you don’t think you can keep up?”

He knew she was baiting him but he didn’t care, “I can keep up just fine.”

Sam arched an eyebrow, challenge lit her eyes, “You sure? You spend an awful lot of time behind your desk, Doctor Bashir.” She was already bouncing on the balls of her feet, “I wouldn’t want you to pull something.”

Not without his vanity, Julian straightened his spine, taking full advantage of his height. He took great pride in his athletic build. “I will have you know I am in peak physical condition.”

“Really?” She grinned widely up at him, “Well then, catch me if you can!”

Sam sprinted away easily, putting a good distance between them. To Julian’s surprise, he actually had to put in a bit of effort into catching up with her. 

It was an hour later when they finally stopped, both of them panting and covered in sweat. Sam checked the monitor strapped to her wrist. Certainly not my best, but it’ll do.

Julian was bent at the waist, resting his hands on his knees, gulping in huge lungfuls of air, “Do you always run like that?”

Sam stretched out her tightened calve muscles, having no problem recovering from the workout, “Like what?”

“Like your life depends on it.”

“Yeah,” she said after considering it, “I guess I do… Breakfast?”

He gaped at her, “Seriously?”

“Absolutely, I’m starving… aren’t you starving?” Not waiting for a reply, she strode off towards a line of unopened doors on the promenade.

Julian followed her to the dining level, stopping when she did in front of the large double glass doors of the Celestial Café, “I don’t think they open for another two hours.”

Sam peered through the elaborately etched glass, “They don’t, but Chalan is usually here early doing prep… ah!” Sam grinned and tapped eagerly on the door.

Chalan Aroya was a blonde pixie of a Bajoran woman. A huge smile wreathed her face when she opened the door, “My friend!”

“Chalan,’ Sam caught the café owner in a fierce hug.

Chalan pulled back and scrutinized her friend’s face. With her large, dark eyes and kitchen witchery, she reminded Sam of a fortune teller or a gypsy. Chalan always had a remedy, a wise word and a healing touch to those who frequented her café. “You are well?”

“Of course,” Sam replied a touch too quickly, “I hope you don’t mind that I brought a friend.”

The Bajoran was unconvinced, but smiled graciously, “Not at all, you are most welcome Dr. Bashir.”

“Thank you,” he smiled in return.

“Come, come,” Chalan waved the pair in, leading them to the counter, “You will be wanting the usual, yes?”

Sam took a seat on one of the stools at the counter, Julian sat at her left, “I’m at your mercy.”

Chalan chuckled, “Well then, I’d better make the most of it.”

Sam’s face lit up as two tall glasses of thick, green liquid were set down on the counter, “No way! You got it?!”

The skeptical look that crossed the Bajoran’s face told Julian she was less than enthused about it, “The last ingredient arrived yesterday. I followed your instructions although… are you certain it’s supposed to look like that?”

“Absolutely,” Sam took a generous sip from her straw, “Oh, yes. Its perfect!”

Julian considered himself an adventurous eater and was game to try anything once, but the look of the mystery drink was giving him pause, “What is it?”

“It’s the mean green machine,” Sam replied, as if it were obvious.

“It is a health tonic,” Chalan explained, “It contains several fruits, vegetables, and live cultures. I didn’t know it was going to be so… green.”

“Of course its green, that is part of what makes it so fantastic,” Sam said with authority, taking another heavenly sip, “They were very popular back home.”

Giving in to curiosity, Julian tasted the thick, green tonic and was surprised by how sweet and refreshing it was. Realizing that both women were waiting for his reaction, he quickly swallowed, “Its quite good, actually.”

Sam beamed, “There, you see? You’ll sell out in no time!”

An hour later, Sam and Julian both polished off their green concoctions as well as a selection of Bajoran pastries. The monitor on Sam’s wrist beeped, reminding her of the time, “Oh, we’ve got to get going.”

“Of course,” Chalan said, walking them out, “I am very glad you are back.”

“Me too… What’s this?” Sam asked as her friend passed a small tightly packed satchel into her hand.

“Tea, a special blend of mine,” Chalan answered, her eyes suddenly somber and her tone wise. “It will help you banish the shadows.”

Sam hugged her again, Chalan always seemed to know what people needed. “Thank you.”

Keeping pace beside Sam as they walked back to her quarters, Julian started to laugh. She peered over, “What are you laughing at?”

“I’m laughing at myself. I had intentions of marching you back to your quarters two hours ago with a stern doctor’s warning against over exertion. Instead, I’m baited into a foot race around the promenade and consume one of the strangest creations I’ve ever encountered.” 

“It was hardly a race, it was a warmup at best,” Sam replied with a sulk, “My running time was certainly humbling. And if the mean green machine is the strangest drink you’ve ever had, then you need to get out more.”

He only laughed again, “I had no idea there was so much activity on this station before 0700. Is this how you start every day?”

“Not since you clipped my wings,” she suppressed a smile of her own, “But, yes. Those quiet hours before everyone fills up the station with their conversations and maintenance schedules and Dabo games and red alerts… they’re magic.”

“I can see that,” he murmured. When they reached her door and suddenly stopped, she made no move to open it. “Aren’t you going to go in?”

Looking a bit nervous, she fidgeted with her wrist monitor, “Of course I am, aren’t you going back to your quarters?”

Suspicious, he regarded her coolly, “Of course I am. Why don’t you want to open your door?”

“I will, when I’m ready.” She crossed her arms over her chest, “Maybe I like to hang out in the corridor.”

“Samantha,” Julian gently pressed, “Open the door.”

Knowing that once Julian had wind of something, he was unlikely to give it up, Sam decided it was best to get it over with. She sighed and pressed her palm to the plate by the doorframe, “One would think being this far away from civilization would afford me a bit more privacy.”

Ignoring her grunbling, the doctor passed through the opened door and was shocked at the state of her living space. Every available surface was cluttered with beakers, scanners, monitors, and makeshift diagnostic equipment. Data PADDs and books of every shape and size were stacked in narrow towers all over the floor and actual sheets of paper with formulas and notes scribbled on them were pinned to the walls. 

Julian was astounded, he had stopped by yesterday afternoon to check on her and not a scrap of this chaos was here then. “What’s all this?”

Sam was kicking herself. Julian had a habit of only popping by after his shift ended, leaving her plenty of time to hide away her night time hobbies. She was so intent on going for a run, so excited by the prospect that it never occurred to her to clean up the mess beforehand. Hoping to sound far less awkward than the felt, she lifted a shoulder in a shrug, “I couldn’t sleep last night so I decided to work on a few things.”

He shook his head, still not quite able to believe the drastic transformation. This was not the work of one night, this was every night. He was irritated with himself. How could he not pick up on the signs of his patient ignoring his instructions to rest? I knew I should have moved her to the Infirmary. He picked up a book at random, frowning fiercely, “Couldn’t sleep or wouldn’t sleep?”

Sam snatched the book from his hands, “I don’t know, pick one.”

Julian sighed, “Samantha, you can not do that to yourself.”

Not quite able to meet his gaze, she kept her attention on the worn book in her hands, “I know, I just… I’m driving myself crazy! I can’t hide here any more, I’ve got to get back to my life!”

Julian looked unconvinced, but she pressed on, appealing to his logic, “Come on Bashir. You’ve read my file; this is not the first time I’ve scrapped a knee.”

The concern and empathy in his gaze was not unlike the look he held there the night she’d called him for help. The image of her bloodied back and bowed head flashed in his mind. “It was a bit more than a scrapped knee.”

“It was,” she nodded, feeling her grit come back, “But it wasn’t the first and it certainly wasn’t the worst. You said it yourself when you examined me yesterday, my wounds have healed perfectly. Healed. Past tense.”

“You don’t miss much,” Julian allowed, “But not all wounds are physical.”

“I know and I’m working on the rest,” she replied, a familiar spark of determination in her eyes, “So how about it, Warden? Am I sprung?”

Julian studied the young woman in front of him for a long moment. Eyes bright and clear as Vulcan bottle glass, fair skin still glowing from their run. Perhaps he was being overly protective. “Alright,” he relented, “Alright. You are officially cleared to resume all normal activities.”

Delighted, Sam launched herself at Julian, hugging him tightly. “Really?! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He grunted in surprise then hugged her back, chuckling, “You’re welcome.” Pulling back, he fixed her with a firm look, “I am releasing you on the condition that you report to the Infirmary for check ups daily for the next week.”

She grinned widely, excitement bubbling up within her, “You got it.”

“15:00 sharp."

Suddenly, she checked her wrist device for the time and started pushing him towards the door, “You’ve got to go! I need to shower and change, and so do you actually, so out! Big day ahead!”

Before he could even register what was happening, Julian was in the hallway with the door hissing shut. “I’ll see you at 3,” he said, laughing to himself. 

He was halfway down the corridor when her door hissed open again and Sam stuck her head out, “Oi, Bashir!”

“Next time, lose the uniform,” she said when he turned around, “It slows you up!”


	5. You Can Run but You Can't Hide

Over the next few weeks, Sam found herself with a running partner nearly every morning. As a matter of fact, the only time she was on her own was when Julian was away for a couple of days attending a medical conference. It surprised her how much she had come to enjoy his company. Julian presented her with a challenge, a rarity in her world. She didn’t have to slow herself down around him, if anything she needed to kick into high gear just to keep up with him. Not surprising given the doctor’s genetically modified background. There were times when she wondered if he were pacing himself, holding just a little something back so she could keep up. Those little doubts were erased when she passed him up one morning. The look of surprise and determination that lit across his face said it all. 

After that day, Julian suggested adding in other activities to their regime. So far, they had tackled rock climbing, mountain biking, roller blading and tennis.

“Alright, alright,” Sam panted, calling for a time out. Sweat poured down her face and in a steady river down her back. She wiped her face and neck with the towel she’d left next to her water bottle. “I want you to change to you right hand.”

Julian was confused, but complied, “Why?”

Sam rinsed her mouth with water, “Because you’re kicking my ass, that’s why!”

“Well switching to my other hand won’t help,” Julian explained, “I’m right-handed.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “You mean, you’ve been playing with the wrong hand this whole time?!”

Julian only grinned, his smile dazzling against tanned skin, brown eyes sparkling with mischief as he spun the racket in his hand.

“Unbelievable,” Sam muttered.

Julian wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but the once prickly Samantha MacKade now welcomed his company. She granted him access to her life and he found there was a whole other world on the station that he had never been aware of. There was an undercurrent to DS9 that she was uniquely attuned to. Not that she was all that interested in intrigue or secrets, she wasn’t Garak, after all. Sam just observed the world around her so acutely that she was able to make connections others did not. It was that very quality that made her such a good scientist, Julian supposed. 

He had also learned several fascinating facts about her; she was chronically late despite the fact that she wore two wrist devices to prevent against it. One was set to the Bajoran common time that DS9 observed and the other was set to Eastern Standard time on Earth. 

When he asked her why she bothered with such outdated technology when it obviously didn’t keep her any more punctual, she replied, “Punctuality is the virtue of the bored.”

She was also the most fiercely competitive person he had ever met and a bit of adrenaline junkie. She was game for any suggestion so long as it was challenging and got the blood pumping. To find that they were so evenly matched was a pleasant surprise to the doctor who had hidden his heightened abilities for most of his life. 

Yet, for all of the inroads he had made towards befriending her, there were still areas of her life that remained a mystery. Things she just didn’t talk about. Her past, her childhood, how she came to the 24th century and why she left the Enterprise were at the top of the no-go list along with any discussion of her week spent on the Cardassian prison ship. At first, Julian had been content to leave well enough alone but the better he got to know her, the more convinced he was that she was not fairing at all well in dealing with the trauma on her own. She lost weight, her eyes bore shadows that hinted of sleepless nights, and her humor faded to a melancholy. 

In the beginning, they would meet for lunch or coffee several times a week, now he was hard pressed to coax her out of her lab for more than a morning run. Secret breakfasts at the Celestial Café stopped all together as did the odd game of three-dimensional chess or any Holosuite excursions. The more time that passed, the more withdrawn she seemed to become and Julian was at a loss as to how to help. 

It was sheer luck that he was sitting across from her now. A plasma leak had vented into her lab and forced her to evacuate until the engineering crews could seal the breach and vent the gas. Not one to waste the opportunity, Julian was quick to invite her to lunch at Quark’s. Having no viable reason to deny him, she grudgingly accepted. 

Sam would have given anything to retreat back to her safe haven and bury herself in research. Work was the only thing that helped her settle these days, it was like a balm. Soothing to her frayed nerves with its consistency, logic, and process. Just follow the steps, do the work, eventually this would pass. Sitting at a small table in a noisy bar was the last place she wanted to be, even with Julian’s company. Bless him for trying, but his incessant chatter was driving her crazy. Everything was so loud and grating. The plate of food sat untouched in front of her, just looking at it made her stomach clench, so she settled for the Tarkalean tea that she now favored. Sam would have gone back to her quarters, but she wasn’t entirely sure the doctor wouldn’t follow her there and force the issue. She could feel disapproval radiating off him with each passing moment. She knew she looked as terrible as she felt; the reflection that greeted her in the mirror every morning was not a pretty one. 

Dear God, when will O’Brien’s crew get that leak fixed? This is taking longer than a Tholian summer! Julian is a sweet guy but come on… doesn’t he ever pause for breath?! I should have grabbed a runabout, gotten off the station for a bit. Maybe I still can… What is that buzzing sound? Is that always here? Doesn’t anyone else notice it? I’m losing my mind… so help me if he looks at my plate and frowns one more time, he is going to be wearing it!

“O’Brien to MacKade.”

Sam nearly jumped out of her skin, saved by the bell! “Go ahead Chief.”

“The leak is fixed, your lab is cleared for access whenever it suits you.”

“Saints be praised,” Sam quickly stood and slung her bag full of data PADDs over her shoulder, “Thanks for lunch, Julian, I’ve gotta run!”

“You haven’t finished your salad,” Julian protested. “Your lab isn’t going anywhere.”

Sam was already several steps away, “I’m in the middle of a project, can’t really stop now!”

Because she was in such a hurry to flee the bar, she didn’t watch where she was going and ran straight into Jadzia Dax. They women collided with such force that Sam’s bag went flying, data PADDs scattering everywhere and the mug of raktajino in Dax’s hand spilled down the front of Sam’s shirt. 

Jadzia bent down to help Sam pick up the mess, “Sorry about that!”

Sam shook her head, moving as quickly as she could, stuffing PADDs back into her pack. “Its my fault, my fault.” She felt as if she couldn’t breathe, the walls were closing in and every instinct in her was saying to run.

Jadzia handed Sam the last PADD and saw tears forming in the young woman’s eyes, “Are you alright?”

“Fine, fine… I’ve got to go,” Sam muttered all but running from the room, pushing past bar patrons in her haste.

Astonished, Dax sat in Sam’s vacated seat, “What was that all about?”

Julian shook his head; his mouth formed a tight line of worry as he watched Samantha MacKade flee the bar. Obviously, she was in far worse shape than he originally thought. “Bad day.”

Dax studied the doctor, the unease on his face spoke volumes, “Its more than that.”

“I’m worried about her, Dax,” Julian admitted quietly, “She won’t let me help and its only getting worse.”

“What’s getting worse?” When he hesitated to answer, Jadzia guessed the cause. As a medical professional, he was bound by doctor patient confidentiality. Putting two and two together, she said, “This has something to do with when she and Benjamin were captured, doesn’t it?”

Julian wasn’t surprised that Jadzia had guessed at least part of it, she had a way of sniffing out the truth, “I can’t just stand by and let her suffer, but she refuses to even acknowledge there is even a problem. How can I treat someone who doesn’t want to be treated?”

The Trill was reflective for a moment, pulling on eight lifetimes worth of experience. “You’re a doctor Julian, you should do what every doctor does when a patient stumps them. Consult another professional.”

Julian frowned in confusion, “What do you mean?”

She smiled kindly. Julian was a brilliant doctor and one of the most caring, and kindhearted people she had ever known, but there were times when he couldn’t see the perfectly obvious. “You really haven’t known Sam all that long, I mean she only came to the station a few months ago.”

“So?”

Jadzia sighed, exasperated, “So, she was on the Enterprise for over three years.”

Finally catching on, Julian’s face reflected the wheels turning in his head, “I never thought about that… you’re right, brilliant!”

Dax grinned, “I have my moments.”

Deanna Troi was comfortably seated at the desk in her quarters when she clicked on the light blinking beside the monitor indicating that there was a call holding for her on sub-space. She was aware that DS9 had one of the youngest doctors ever serving as its CMO, but seeing the pleasing, youthful features greet her was still a surprise. She smiled warmly, “Hello Doctor Bashir.”

Julian returned her smile a bit nervously. He had never met Troi in person, but her reputation as an empath coupled with a keen observation skills was well known throughout Starfleet. “Counselor, thank you for taking the time to talk with me.”

“Not at all,” she returned graciously, “How can I help you doctor?”

He took a deep breath and dove right in, “I was hoping you would be open to a consultation. One of my patients is struggling with the aftermath of a traumatic event and I am having a trouble reaching them.”

Deanna cocked her head to the side in curiosity, “Have you consulted with the counselor on your station um… Telnori, isn’t it?”

Julian shook his head, “No. My patient spent a great deal of time on the Enterprise and as such I thought you would have more insight. I’m sure you know Samantha MacKade.”

“Ah.” The familiar name brought to mind many memories for the Betazoid and made the reason for this call much clearer. “I do indeed. Tell me what happened, I’ll do all I can to help.”

Julian carefully recounted the events of the past few weeks, excluding no details. “I’ve reached a dead end. She’s become completely withdrawn, rarely speaks more than two words and literally runs as soon as she sees me coming.”

Deanna, who had listened very carefully to the doctor’s account, nodded. Her dark eyes reflected her sympathy. Julian Bashir seemed to be a very earnest, dedicated, and compassionate young man. Taking on the ever-complicated Samantha MacKade would certainly put those admirable qualities to the test. Deanna also picked up a streak of stubbornness in Bashir that would serve him well if he was going to keep treating her. 

“Running is something Samantha does well.”

Julian let out a humorless laugh, “So I’ve noticed. What do I do now? Do I use my authority as Chief Medical to order her to seek counseling?” 

Troi’s reply was quick, “No. Any attempt to force her will result in her pulling away further. She has never responded well to shows of authority. She needs to feel safe and secure so that she can allow herself to be vulnerable and begin to process the trauma.”

“How do I do that?”

Deanna was thoughtful, “I think I have some ideas on that.”


	6. Best Laid Plans

Julian sat in the pilot’s seat of the Runabout gazing out at the infinite expanse of space. Twelve hours out from Deep Space Nine and due to rendezvous with the USS Enterprise in a matter of minutes. The doctor was a tight coil of anticipation. Any time spent on the flagship of the Federation was a rare honor for anyone wearing the uniform, but this trip had a special purpose.

“Are we there yet?” Sam asked from her seat in the back of the shuttle, a small stack of data PADDs on her lap. Not one to waste down time, she used the opportunity to familiarize herself with Commander Data’s research. 

The subspace transmission had come through six days ago.

“If you have the time, I would value your insight,” he said in that familiar, measured voice, “I have reached an impasse.”  
Sam regarded the golden-skinned android on the screen and any reservations she may have had about returning to her old stomping grounds were outweighed by the love and loyalty she would always have for her old friend.   
“Of course I’ll come, Data. You know I’m always up for a challenge. I’ll have to arrange for a shuttle though, the Enterprise is a bit beyond transporter range.”  
“Actually, Deep Space Nine’s Chief Medical Officer will be coming here next week,” Data replied evenly, “Perhaps you can travel with him.”  
She frowned, “Julian?”  
“Yes,” Data confirmed, “Dr. Bashir is meeting with Dr. Crusher to discuss the latest diagnostic interfacing from Starfleet Medical.”

It had been nearly a year since Sam had packed her bags and started fresh on the Federation’s farthest outpost. A difficult decision and one she still questioned during moments of weakness. Even so, she never expected to set foot on the Enterprise again. The universe, as always, seemed to have other ideas.

“As a matter of fact, we’ve arrived.” Julian peered at her over the back of his seat and grinned, “You should come and see.”

Abandoning her research, Sam joined Julian at the front of the cabin. The Enterprise loomed large in through the front window.

“Gorgeous,” Julian said, awestruck, “She’s one and a half times larger than her predecessor with a warp drive that can reach warp 12!”

Getting no response, the doctor glanced over at his traveling companion. She stood behind the navigation seat; her fingers dug into the seat back, a wary expression pinched her features as she studied the starship.

She looked nearly identical as she did the day she came to DS9, dressed as she was head to toe in black. Julian had come to think of it as her battle armor; scuffed, knee-high boots, sleek black leather jacket zipped up with no adornment except for a combadge. Dark hair pulled into a high ponytail revealed a face that was pale and drawn. Eyes that screamed for sleep were ringed by large, dark circles and she’d lost weight. Nearly 20 pounds in Julian’s estimation. That battle armor that was once perfectly fitted now hung loose. 

It had been three months since Samantha and Captain Sisko escaped that prison ship and it was obvious to everyone that she was far from recovered.

“No ship is capable of reaching warp 12,” she replied before returning to her post at the back of the shuttle.

Bashir cleared his throat and inputted the docking commands. He began to wonder if the plan he hatched with Counselor Troi was a mistake after all.

Sam released a pent-up sigh as she entered her guest quarters for the night. She had just spent the past three hours in Ten Forward surrounded by friends that were as close to her as any family. There they all sat, together again, regaling each other with stories of exploration and discovery. Catching up on all that had happened since she left the crew a year ago. Julian had been particularly entertained by Commander Riker’s recounting of the time Sam posed as a Starfleet captain when they were trying to trick the Andorian Senator.

“That senator couldn’t get off this ship fast enough!” Riker said with a grin. “I told the captain to put her in uniform the next time a Romulan Warbird shows up!”  
“I wasn’t that intimidating,” Sam downed the rest of her wine and signaled for another.  
Geordi’s eyebrows raised over his visor, “Scared the hell out of me. When he made that comment about your face being worthy of song, I thought you were going to take his antennae off!”  
“He had it coming.”

Sam had laughed and smiled all evening. Kept up all appearances of jovial good will and lightheartedness. Raised her glass to friendship and old times. But all she really wanted to do was retreat to her quarters and lock the door behind her. It was so draining to keep up conversation and good humor, especially for her friends who knew her so very well. Any trace of something being amiss and they would hound her until they found the cause. Tomorrow should be easier, with only Data to contend with and the work to structure her day around. Yes… that would be better. 

She crossed the dimly lit room and paused as the bed in the adjacent room caught her eye. Although she was exhausted, she immediately decided against climbing into bed. The nightmares didn’t come every night, but when they did the fallout was far worse than simply going without sleep altogether. Sam kicked off her boots and shrugged out of her jacket as she padded across the room. She opted for the over-sized chair by the window and curled up with one of the books she brought along. She had read it a thousand times, but it was soothing in that way, like a childhood comfort. Sam opened the volume and settled in to wait out the night.

Julian met Deanna Troi in her office the following morning. He considered the mug of tea in his hands as she poured herself a cup. Seated on the sofa across from him, the Betazoid was contemplative, her expressive features serene as she listened to him recount the events from last night. Deanna herself had not been in attendance, her empathic abilities would have likely put Sam on the defense and that would come soon enough.

“She seemed to do well enough,” Julian admitted, “Smiled and joked with the crew, had a couple of glasses of wine and retired. I haven’t seen her yet today.”

“It would have been difficult for her to maintain a veneer of normalcy with a group of people who know her so well,” Deanna mused. 

The two were still talking when Sam buzzed the chime of Deanna’s office. The door opened accommodatingly and stepping inside, she found not only Counselor Troi, but Julian as well. A split second of assessment was all it took. Two medical professionals, waiting for her with that twin look of sympathy and concern. Sam glanced from one to the other, dread forming in the pit of her stomach, “What is this?”

Deanna rose from her seat but did not step forward. The emotions rolling off the young woman were palatable even without her empathic senses. Panic, fear, anger, and oppressive sadness. This was going to be trickier than she thought. “Sam, come and sit, please.”

Sam made no move to do so. “I don’t think so, Dee. I’m not much in the mood for analysis today.” She shifted her gaze to Julian, her green eyes darkening with temper, “This was you, wasn’t it?”

Before he could reply, Deanna answered, “Dr. Bashir contacted me for a consultation, what is said here is strictly confidential. This is a safe place, Sam. It always has been.”

“I was worried about you,” Julian added quietly. 

“Worried about me,” Sam echoed. “So you went behind my back, conspired with my friends… Data,” her voice broke ever so slightly, tinged with disbelief and betrayal. “You even roped Data into this charade.” 

“He wanted to help you,” Julian said, his explanation sounding hollow. “We all want to help you.”

“Help me? By tricking me? By lying to me?!” 

Julian held his hands up in a show of innocence, “By bringing you home.”

“Home!” Sam choked out the word as her heart cracked. She struggled to keep the tears from her eyes, “This isn’t my home, it never has been!”

Julian could see the hurt in her eyes and he instantly regretted it. He had been wrong; his actions had only made things worse. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, “Sam, I’m sorry. I know you’ve been struggling with what happened to you when you were captured. Please, let us help.”

He could practically see Sam clamp down her defenses. Like an iron gate slamming shut. Her expression cooled and her tears dried. She lifted her chin proudly, “As my doctor, you are bound by the ethics of your profession to honor my wishes in regards to my own treatment, correct?”

He nodded mutely.

“Good. Then this treatment is at an end. You may consider your professional obligation to me at an end as well.” She cast a brief look at the hand still gripping her arm. “Remove your hand.”

Julian immediately complied, swallowing down another apology he knew she wouldn’t accept. Sam spun on her heel and strode to the door. She paused briefly before exiting and said, “Sorry Deanna.”

When the door hissed shut, Julian turned to the counselor, “That backfired spectacularly.” 

Deanna who had silently watched the heated exchange, took a long sip of her tea before answering. “I don’t think so.”

Julian collapsed into the chair opposite her and shook his head, “No? I’ve never seen her so hurt and so angry. And she has a point, I did trick her into coming here.”

Troi favored the younger man with a sympathetic smile, “No you didn’t, and she doesn’t believe that either.” At Julian’s questioning gaze she continued, “Sam is many things, but she has never been a fool. Our cover story was flimsy at best and she still agreed to come along. Knowing her as you do, do you really think she would put herself in a position that would leave her so vulnerable?”

“You think she knew what this trip was about?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion, “That she came because she wanted to talk?”

“Not as such,” Deanna shifted in her seat so that her legs tucked up under her teal skirt, “What do you know about Sam’s past?”

“Very little,” Julian admitted, “Only what I’ve read in her file. She was born in 1973 and put into stasis presumedly due to some sort of accident. Her stasis pod was discovered by the crew of the Enterprise under the command of Captain Kirk in 2267. She turned up in our time about four years ago.”

Deanna nodded, “That’s as much as anyone knows, except perhaps for a few details she confided in Captain Picard. When he first brought her aboard as part of the crew, she was angry, distant and a loner. But under all of that was what can best be described as grief. Heartbreak. As time went on and she found her place, those feelings faded, but they never fully left.” Deanna tilted her head as she regarded the doctor, “In all the time I have known her and all the times I tried to counsel her, today was the first time she ever mentioned home.”

Julian considered this new information, “You think that what happened in her past and what happened on the Cardassian ship are connected?”

“Perhaps. But either way, she agreed to come back to the Enterprise not out of loyalty to us but because of her trust in you.” Deanna studied him speculatively, “She chose to reach out to you and I believe she will again.”

“You believe I should try again?” Julian sounded doubtful. “I could end up pushing her even further away.”

“Maybe,” Deanna allowed, “But I think you have more pull with her than you think you do. Tread carefully, she may surprise you.”

Sam headed directly for the Holosuite. She needed to run, to escape, to breathe, to do something. She punched in a few commands and the room shifted around her to a military grade obstacle course. Taking off at a full run, Sam attacked the course. Putting miles between herself and the heated words exchanged in Deanna’s office. 

Julian’s handsome face, etched with concern floated into her mind. Damn him anyway! I should have known better than to come back to this ship. Nothing good ever came from revisiting the past. Go, move, never stand still. Sam launched herself at the climbing wall, tearing her nails as she grabbed the handholds. Sweat mixed with the tears that she couldn’t seem to stop. Why does everyone want to pry into areas I would just as soon forget? What do I have to do to get some damned peace?!

She reached the top of the wall and jumped to the ground on the other side. She sat down clumsily in the dirt and tried to catch her breath. Instead of feeling invigorated and in control as she normally did after a run, she felt utterly defeated and spent. “Computer, end program and save.”

“Security code required to save Holosuite programs,” came the computer’s neutral reply.

“End program and save, MacKade 7 Delta.”

“Security code not recognized, please provide a valid security code.”

Even the computer is against me! “Just end the damned program!”

“Please provide a valid security code to end the Holosuite program.”

At the end of her rope, Sam stood and shouted, “Computer, exit arch!”

Complying at last, the arch appeared just to Sam’s left, revealing the hallway beyond. Sam stormed out of the room, punching the control panel as she passed through the arch. The touch responsive glass shattered as her fist connected and the program finally shut down. She didn’t even notice the blood dripping from her knuckles as she walked off blindly towards the turbolift.


	7. The Floodgates

Sam moved about her guest quarters with ruthless efficiency, packing her belongings made slower by the use of one hand but she would be damned if that was going to stop her.  
The sound of the door chime stilled her actions but only for a moment, “Come.”

Julian entered through the open door and made a quick visual assessment. She’d changed clothes, now outfitted in a dark, charcoal gray running suit with a panel crisp white running down the sides. Her bare feet and damp hair evidence of a recent shower. The mixture of fear and fury filtered across her features told him that Counselor Troi had been right, best to tread carefully. “Sam, I…”

“I’m surprised to see you doctor,” Sam said, not sparing him a glace as she worked, “I didn’t think we left anything unsaid.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, refusing to rise to the baited statement.

“There’s a Tholian freighter passing this way, their captain a favor,” she explained. “In two hours, they will be in transporter range.”

Julian nodded, careful to keep his voice and movements non-threatening, the last thing he wanted was for her to bolt again. “Where will you go? Back to Deep Space 9?”

Sam shrugged, “Eventually I suppose, I do have work to finish there. But for now, its wherever the wind takes me,” she proclaimed, throwing her arms wide to accentuate the point.

It was then that Julian noticed the white bandage wrapped around the knuckles of her right hand. His brows drew together in concern as he stepped forward, “What happened to your hand?”

Sam tried to pull away as Julian caught hold of her hand to examine the injury. “A miscalculation,” she muttered, trying to keep the pain from her voice.

Ignoring her protests, Julian pulled his medical tricorder out and made a quick scan, “You have a fracture. Have a seat, I’ll get my med kit.”

Sam made no move to comply. A frown creased her features and doubt lingered in her gaze. He had tricked her into coming here, conspired with her friends and betrayed her trust. Julian sighed, “Look, when that freighter shows up here and you still want to leave, I won’t stop you. Until then I am still your doctor, let me treat you. Please?”

She didn’t say a word one way or the other but sat down on the sofa all the same.

Julian took the opportunity to slip over to his quarters to fetch his medical bag. He was only two doors down but hurried all the same. To his relief, Sam was right where he left her when he returned.

Sam was silent as he gently repaired her damaged hand, staring blankly out the window. “There we are,” Julian declared, indicating that he had finished, “Good as new.”

She wiggled her fingers, testing the range of motion, “You are a testament to your profession, doctor.”

“Even so, be careful of it for a while. Wait a few days at least before you take on any more… bulkheads?” he guessed.

“Control panel,” Sam corrected him.

“Ah.”

“I really should help Geordi repair that before I leave,” she said with a sigh then looked down at her freshly healed knuckles. She turned her hand over, searching for evidence of the previous damage and found none. “Modern medicine is truly a miracle.”

Julian nodded, “We’ve come a long way.”

“I’m always in awe of it. When I was six I fell out of this massive oak tree in my front yard. Broke my arm in three places,” Sam said, her eyes far away, “I wore a cast for that whole summer. What I would have given for an ocular generator then.”

“Bah, what’s a broken arm? I’ll bet it didn’t even slow you down.”

“Nope! I was back at it the next day,” a touch a pride colored her voice, “Did you know that you can climb a tree with one arm?”

“Not from personal experience, no,” Julian admitted.

“Well neither did my mother. Just imagine the look on her face when she discovered me on the roof of our grand old Victorian house, reading Dickens and eating French macaroons.”

Julian chuckled as he pictured Sam as a hell on wheels kid, “You must have given her fits.”

Sam smiled slightly in return, “Several. It didn’t take her long to figure out that she would retain more of her sanity if she left me to my own devices.”

“Better off not knowing?”

“Definitely. I mean, what’s a few bumps and bruises anyway? I always made it home eventually.” A sudden melancholy stole across her face, “I wonder…” she started, but stopped.

“What do you wonder?” Julian gently prompted.  
It was a very long time before she replied and when she did all the harshness was gone from her voice, replaced by the sadness of a child grieving the loss of a parent. “How long did she wait for me to come home that last time? I so rarely went home at that point, weeks sometimes months would pass so it would have been at least that long. Maybe even a year.” She looked away, “Maybe she waited forever.”

Julian knew next to nothing about Sam’s 20th century past. She never spoke of it, most of what he knew consisted of cursory information gleaned from the Enterprise mission logs. Bare bones at best. He’d always made assumptions about the circumstances that led to her going into long term stasis. An illness or an injury that couldn’t be solved by the medical technology of the time. 

He studied her profile, “Weren’t your parents the ones who put you into stasis?”

“No. Not that I’d remember of course but no,” she shook her head, “It wouldn’t have been them.”

“But you were quite young when that happened.”

“22,” she supplied.

“As your next of kin, they would have had to authorize that procedure on your behalf,” Julian reasoned, “Or at least be notified.” When Sam said nothing, he pressed further, “What did the records say?”

“There were no records, Julian. None that I could find anyway,” she replied at length. “When McCoy brought me out of stasis, I found everyone gone. Not just my parents, which was difficult but expected.” She turned her green eyes to Julian, her words tumbling out in rapid succession, “We will outlive our parents, its nature’s way, mortality. We spend our whole lives preparing for it while fighting against it, the inevitability. But it wasn’t just my parents, it was everyone and everything. The coffee shop I’d stop at every morning, strangers I’d pass in the street, even my oak tree. Every face I’d ever seen, every voice I’d ever heard. My whole world gone.”

How does one grieve the loss of an entire society? “The Earth is still there,” he said at length, “Have you ever gone back?”

“There is no going back,” she answered, a touch of bitterness in her voice. “Because its not Earth anymore, its paradise!” Sam sighed, defeated, “I’m sure it sounds strange, after all, its ancient history to you. 20th century Earth with its ozone and pollution, political corruption, world wars… what’s to miss?”

Julian suddenly realized how superior and downright snobbish modern descriptions of Earth must sound to someone coming from that period in time. Humans pride themselves on their evolution. They had grown past all of that, banded together as a species and traveled out into the galaxy. “Every society struggles in some way. No home is perfect, not even paradise.”

“No,” she agreed, “It wasn’t a good fit for me, even on its best day. But the Enterprise… now, she fit.”

Sam rose, unable to sit anymore. “This really is a very nice ship, fastest and finest, state of the art and all that,” she said running a hand over the perfectly rounded windowsill, “I’m sure she’ll go off to do all sorts of impressive things, but my ship… my Enterprise. She was gorgeous.”

“I’d never seen anything like her and it was love at first sight. Bashir, I am telling you,” a reminiscent smile lit up Sam’s face, “She was perfect… and that crew! I had friends there, for the first time, real friends that I didn’t have to dumb myself down for. I didn’t have to hold back just so they could keep up. I wasn’t crazy to them, I was brilliant. There was technology to bring any idea I had to life. Every day was an adventure! We were cowboys and space was the wild west!”

The wistfulness in her voice broke Julian’s heart. He knew what it was like to struggle to find belonging. He knew the absolute joy that it could bring once you did find it. Deep Space 9 was that place for him, his beautiful Infirmary that he built out of a burned out hole the Cardassians left behind. He was grateful every day for it, for his friends, for the community and for the work. 

“That was my paradise Julian, and losing it was far worse than losing whatever life I had in the 20th century.”

She turned her back to him, looking out the window to the silent blackness of space. She crossed her arms, cupping her elbows with her hands. “When I ended up here, in this time, I swore to myself no more starships, no more Starfleet, no more Federation. Never again. I was better off on my own and hell or highwater I was going to make it on my own.”

Julian knew at least part of what came next from conversations with Miles. Captain Picard met Sam when they were both being held captive by a Romulan unit that had gone rogue. 

“How she piloted that half functioning tin can of a shuttle all the way to the Enterprise, I’ll never know,” the animated Irishman told Julian, pausing to wet his throat with a Synthale. “The hatch flew open, this girl popped out and said... Oi! Are you guys missing a captain?”

It was impossible. Just like she was. Stories of the impossible swirled around Samantha MacKade like smoke. Anyone she crossed paths with her seemed to have a story. A romantic, adventurous spirit like Julian had been fascinated, and still was. 

“No starships until Picard.”

She let out a humorless laugh, “Ha… yeah, Picard can be very persuasive. Of course, given the choice between the Enterprise or being shipped back to Earth, what would you do?”

“So he forced you to stay?” Julian asked, “That doesn’t sound like Picard.”

“I suppose that’s not a totally fair assessment,” she allowed, “But unlike Jim Kirk, Captain Picard is a bit of a stickler for regulation. The Prime Directive and all that. Jim was perfectly happy to have me aboard and not breathe a word of it to his superiors. Hell, he liked it that way! Called me his ace in the hole!” Sam sighed with nostalgia before continuing, “Jean-Luc insisted on submitting a full report to Starfleet Command and they were not about to have a 20th Century human wandering about modern day unescorted.”

“So, Kirk never told Starfleet about you, that’s why there are no records of you from that time?”

“Oh, there are records,” she said with a ghost of a smile, “You just have to know where to look. I didn’t expect to like him, you know. Picard? Or this ship, or anyone else here, but I did. No matter how hard I fought against it. I did find friends, and acceptance. A place to belong again, in spite of myself.”

Suddenly Julian made a connection, “That was why you left, wasn’t it? You left because you got close to the crew of this ship just like you did with that first crew. You left because you were afraid you would eventually lose them the same way you lost Kirk’s crew.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I’ll lose them,” she spat, “It’s not an eventuality, it’s a certainty. That war with the Dominion will come and when it does its going to be all hands on deck. This beautiful ship of exploration will become a battleship and her crew will be soldiers. As they should be, to defend the Alpha Quadrant… but that doesn’t mean I have to stay and watch.”

“But you went to Deep Space 9. When the Dominion makes their move, that will be the first place they hit.”

“I didn’t go to DS9 to avoid the war,” Sam explained, “Just because I don’t want to watch my friends get blown to bits, doesn’t mean that I won’t fight. The key to keeping the Alpha Quadrant safe is the wormhole, that’s why I went to DS9. I’m a scientist, not a soldier!” Conviction rang in her voice, “I don’t wear that uniform, I don’t carry a phaser!”

Julian rose and walked over to Sam who still wouldn’t look at him, “And that is why you never joined Starfleet. You will work with us, fight along side us, but you don’t want to become a solider… perhaps be forced to use that phaser.”

Sam reached over and brushed her fingers over Julian’s shoulder, feeling the fabric. She smiled wistfully, “The people I love best in all the universe have worn the uniform. They’re the good guys, the heroes.” 

She shook her head and let her hand fall away, “I always thought I’d hesitate and if that hesitation cost me my life, so be it. But if it cost the life of my crewmates? I couldn’t. I didn’t think I had it in me, but I was wrong. I was so wrong.” She swallowed and drew a shuddering breath, “I killed him.” Her eyes filled with tears and her voice cracked, “I killed him.”

“Who?” Julian asked gently.

“That guard. That bloody Cardassian Guard.”

Realization dawned on Julian’s face as another puzzle piece fell into place, “The one who tried to rape you, from the prison ship?”

“I don’t even know who it happened,” Sam closed her eyes briefly against the onslaught of jagged memories, “I don’t know where that dagger came from… I suppose he must have dropped it. I don’t remember making the decision, but I did,” she confessed in disbelief, “I took that dagger and I buried it in him all the way up to the hilt.” 

Sam looked down at her hands as if they didn’t even belong to her, halfway expecting them to still be covered in blood. They began to shake, hands of a murderer, “I killed him, Julian. I killed him and I laid there, covered in his blood and all I could think was how I felt warm for the first time in a week.”

Julian grasped Sam’s slender shoulders, hoping to offer a bit of comfort against the trauma, “You defended yourself, you are not to blame for what happened.”

“I ended a life,” she whispered, her gaze haunted by what she had done, “I’ve never…”

“You did what you had to do to survive,” Julian insisted, “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have found another way,” she said in desperation.

“Sometimes there isn’t another way.”

“There is always another way!” Her voice catching on a sob as she extracted herself from Julian’s grasp. “I thought of a dozen of alternatives on that shuttle ride home. That’s who I am, its what I do! I find the way!”

“Listen to me,” Julian implored, “They beat you, repeatedly, brutally. They starved you and tried the rape you. Trauma of that kind… you were lucky to survive it. You can not blame yourself for circumstances beyond your control.”

Sam didn’t want Julian’s absolution, his forgiveness for what she felt was unforgivable. It was the guilt that was holding her together. If she were to let it go, she would break apart completely and she wasn’t confident that she would ever be whole again. 

“Don’t you see? Making the impossible happen, that’s what I do. Pull a rabbit out of a hat, spin straw into gold… it’s who I am. Who I was.” She shook her head, “It was something I could always count on, the one constant in my life. Through space and time and prison ships and uncharted planets! From my last day on Earth to my first day on Deep Space 9… everything I gained and everything I lost. It didn’t matter because where or when I found myself because I could always rely on myself but now,” a single tear traced its way down her cheek. “That’s gone too. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

“You are the person you’ve always been.” Though she bowed her head, Julian pressed on, “You are brave, strong, resourceful, intelligent. You pulled yourself up and escaped the horrors of that ship with injuries that would give a Klingon pause! It’s because of you that Captain Sisko made it back to the station.”

Julian reached out and wiped away the slow trickle of tears away with the pad of his thumb. “You are still that girl who ate macaroons on the rooftop. Who wasn’t going to let a broken arm stop her from climbing any damned tree she pleased.” He shifted his hand to crook a finger under her chin, coaxing her into looking at him. When at last she did he smiled gently, “You are the hero, whether you wear a uniform or not.”

Sam had never let her thoughts linger on the past for long, never truly grieved the loss of the life she loved or the people who filled that life up. She’d kept her head down, pushed forward, focused on the work. The here and now, that was all that mattered. 

She felt the dam she had built up deep withing herself break, releasing everything she’d buried. Her breath hitched in a gut-wrenching sob and she sank slowly to the floor.

Julian, refusing to let her go though a second of this alone, joined her there. He sat with his back braced against the wall and pulled Sam up against his side, wrapping steady arms around her.

Sam couldn’t have stopped if she wanted to, a thousand hurts and heartbreaks came pouring out. She buried her face against Julian’s shoulder, wrapped her arms around his torso and held on for dear life.

It was a very long time before the torrent of tears subsided. When it did, neither of them moved. They sat wrapped up together, letting the welcome calm envelope the space.

The first to break the silence was Sam. “Thank you,” she sniffled, irritated with how small her voice sounded, “For the shoulder.”

“My shoulder is yours, whenever you need it.”

With her head pillowed against Julian’s chest, she could here the steady beat of his heart and the pleasant way his baritone voice vibrated under her ear. It was comforting and she was far too weary to question why that was. “It’s a good shoulder.”

Julian chuckled, “Its served me well.” One of the unique quirks of his genetic enhancements was an incredibly accurate internal clock. He always seemed to know the time, “Your freighter should be within range by now.”

Sam responded by holding on tighter.

Julian rested his chin on top of her head and hugged her back, “Perhaps its not your freighter after all.”


	8. Epilogue

Julian sat alone in Ten Forward, nursing his third cup of Tarkalean tea. It was mid-morning and most of the crew had finished their breakfasts and gone about their duties, but he had yet to see Samantha and he was growing concerned.

He left her quarters reluctantly last night. It would have been his preference to camp out on her couch just as he had three months ago when he first tended her injuries. The idea of leaving Sam alone in the wake of that trauma didn’t sit well with him. It was her tired request for privacy that finally saw him to the door.

“I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything,” he said, handing her a hypospray, “To help you sleep.”

He was still wondering if he had done the right thing by leaving when Sam walked in through the double doorway. She scanned the room briefly before locking eyes with him. She offered a shy smile before heading towards him, pausing to order her own tea at the bar.

Mug in hand, she sat across from the doctor, “Good morning.”

The physician in Julian took a visual assessment of his patient. Her eyes, although still guarded were clear and the dark smudges that had persisted for week were nearly faded. Her color had improved overall and the coiled tension she held in her posture had relaxed. And she wasn’t wearing black, no armor today. Instead, she wore one of those multifunctional jumpsuits that many of the women in Starfleet favored. A rich, deep purple with an invisible zipper that traced a path down the center of her torso and v-neckline that flared up into a regal stand-up collar that showed off the long line of her neck. Her dark, brunette hair had been worked into a series of semi-messy braids and gathered into a ponytail. 

“A punk rock ponytail.” Was what she had called it when Dax inquired after it one day. The Trill had been enamored with it enough to try and mimic it herself, although Jadzia’s natural elegance seemed to undermine the effect.

She looked like herself more than she had in weeks, definitely a positive sign.

“Good morning!” he beamed at her, “How are you feeling? Did you sleep? How did you sleep?”

Sam blinked at the barrage of questions, “I slept.”

“Good! Great! Did you have any trouble? Interruptions?”

“Interruptions?” she repeated with an arched brow, “I slept like a dead woman for 12 hours! What the hell was in the hypospray?!”

“A mild sedative, honestly” he rushed to assure her, “It just helps you relax. Anything beyond that is all you.”

Sam eyed him suspiciously, “A mild sedative? Not elephant tranquilizer?”

“Nope. That reaction was due to sleep deprivation, extreme sleep deprivation. You haven’t been sleeping properly for weeks.” Seeing she was about to protest, he cut her off, “Don’t try to deny it, I’m a doctor, I recognize the symptoms.”

Sam had no retort for Julian’s logic, annoying though it was. She took a sip of her tea and immediately regretted it, “Ugh! I don’t know what it is, but my tea is… off. How’s yours?”

“Perfectly normal,” he replied.

She tried a sip again, “Well mine’s not. I drink Tarkalean tea every day since you introduced me to it and this is off.” She raised her hand, signaling to the ensign working the bar. “Their replicators probably need to be recalibrated.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s really necessary,” Julian said, sounding a bit nervous.

“Well I took Chief O’Brien’s crash course on replicators, it won’t take long to fix.”

The young ensign approached the table expectantly, “Can I help you?”

Sam answered, “Yes.” Just as Julian said, “No.”

Sam, having quite enough of Bashir’s interfering was ready to tell him off when he rushed to stop her, “No, we’re fine.” He told the young man then turned to her, “There is nothing wrong with your tea.”

“Yes there is!”

“I’ll bring you another one,” the young man offered.

Sam opened her mouth to reply only to have Julian cut her off again, “That won’t be necessary.” 

“Julian!”

“There’s nothing wrong with your tea, its just different than the Tarkalean tea on DS9.” Julian sighed in resignation, “The replicators on the station are programmed to add nutrients to your tea.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a perfectly normal regiment of vitamins, minerals and proteins,” he explained, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

“You’ve been spiking my tea?!”

“You weren’t eating properly, and malnutrition is a very serious condition. It can lead to all kinds of nasty complications. The nutrient blend was formulated especially for you,” Julian said, adding his best competent doctor tone to his voice, “Although, you must have a very delicate palate, most people wouldn’t be able to detect it.”

Astounded, Sam shook her head, “Unbelievable. So the replicator in my quarters, in my lab, the replimat, on the Defiant, the shuttle, Quark’s… Wait a minute, I had tea in Sisko’s office the other day!”

Julian smiled in spite of himself, it was one of the more impressive coups he had pulled off.

“How the hell did you get all of that accomplished? You don’t have that level of engineering expertise, especially not with Cardassian tech unless…” a sudden realization clicked into place, “O’Brien!”

The ensign, unsure what to do next, interrupted, “I’m sorry, but can I bring you something?”

Sam, having forgotten the poor man was standing there, glanced from him to the doctor who only smiled and raised his eyebrows expectantly. Damn him anyway! “A cheeseburger medium-rare, double order of fries and a coke.”

To his credit, the ensign didn’t even flinch, “What size of coke?”

“The biggest you’ve got,” she declared defiantly.

“I’m sorry I altered your tea without your permission,” Julian allowed as the young man hurried off to fill the order, “I’ll have Miles change it to an optional setting when we get back to the station.”

“No, don’t bother,” Sam said with a huff, “I prefer it that way now, you’ve spoiled me for anything else.”

Julian grinned widely then, fantastically pleased with himself.

She only shook her head and took a sip of her substandard tea, “Unbelievable.”

To Julian’s supreme satisfaction, Sam polished off nearly the entire meal only allowing him to steal three fries from her plate. “Since you’ve decided not to run off with a Tholian freighter captain, is it safe to assume that you will be returning to DS9?”

“Yes,” Sam popped her last French fry into her mouth. I really should have these more often, I’d forgotten how much I like them! “My research is far from complete and I’ve got some new ideas to run past the chief in regards to the quantum relays.”

“Good,” Julian nodded, “In that case, I’d like you to make an appointment with Counselor Telnori when you get back to the station.”

Sam’s reply was instantaneous, “No way.”

“Sam,” Julian started, he had known this wouldn’t be easy.

“No. I am not talking to Telnori, the man is a complete stiff.”

“He’s a very nice guy,” Julian protested.

“He’s a bore,” she informed him with authority, “He’s got the personality of Irish oatmeal. Cold, Irish oatmeal.”

Julian had to smirk, having worked with the station counselor for the better part of a year. She wasn’t exactly wrong in her description. “Counseling is crucial to your recovery.”

“I happen to agree with you, but I’m not seeing Telnori,” she informed him, taking the napkin from her lap and folding it neatly on the table in front of her. “I’ll be seeing another counselor.”

Julian was confused, “But Telnori is the only counselor on the station.”

“Deanna stopped by my quarters this morning,” Sam said, dropping her gaze to her lap, “She has offered to meet with me once a week via sub-space on condition that we both check in with you. She seems to think I would be less likely to skip appointments if I have to check in with someone living on the station.”

Julian smiled and reached across the table to squeeze her hand, “It would be my privilege.”

Totally engrossed in their conversation, neither Sam nor Julian heard the approach of the officer who entered Ten Forward. It wasn’t until a rather foreboding shadow fell over their table that they both looked up.

Julian knew him at a glance, the legendary Captain Jean-Luc Picard. He stood tall, proud and imposing. His sharp, intelligent eyes could cut a man with a glance. Julian was about to stand to attention, as was required of every officer in the presence of a captain, but Sam beat him to the punch.

“Well, well,” she said craning her neck to look at the steely captain. Her voice dripped with sarcasm, “I was beginning to think this ship functioned without her captain.”

“This ship and her crew are more than capable of functioning without my direct supervision, Ms. MacKade,” Picard replied in his rich, authoritative voice.

Sam and the captain locked eyes for several tense moments before they both broke into broad smiles.

Sam launched herself out of her chair into Picard’s fierce embrace, “Hello Captain.”

“Hello MacKade,” Jean-Luc returned, hugging her tightly.

Julian saw a flicker of troubled realization skate across the captain’s face. He surely noticed the thinness of her frame. Not much gets past him, Julian mused.

Picard drew back and held Sam at arm’s length, scrutinizing her features, “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she quickly responded.

The captain said nothing, though something sparked deep in his knowing gaze.

“I’m better,” Sam tried again, squirming under the unspoken scrutiny of her former captain.

That earned her the slightest fraction of a raised eyebrow.

“I’m working on it!” she declared in exasperation, crossing her arms over her chest, “Hells bells, Picard!”

Jean-Luc smiled then. Samantha MacKade was like a daughter to him in many ways, or perhaps a favorite niece. When Data and Counselor Troi approached him with a request for a sort of intervention, he had given his full support. Once you were a member of his crew, you were a member of his family. 

Picard gave her a fatherly pat on the shoulder, “Good girl.” He then extended a welcoming smile to Julian, “And you must be Dr. Bashir.”

Julian quickly stood, feeling like an eager, young cadet addressing someone of Picard’s clout, “Ah, yes Captain.”

Picard offered his hand, “You have an impressive record, young man. If I weren’t fully staffed, I’d try to recruit you myself.”

Julian shook Picard’s hand enthusiastically, “Thank you sir. It would be a tempting offer, the Enterprise is quite the ship!”

Picard’s mouth quirked, “She has her moments.”

The captain’s combadge sounded, interrupting the exchange, “Bridge to the Captain.”

Picard tapped the badge, “Go ahead, Number One.”

Will Riker’s voice came through, “Captain, we’re picking up strange readings from that temporal anomaly we detected.” 

“On my way,” Jean-Luc replied.

“Temporal anomaly?” Sam asked, a mischievous sparkle lit her eyes.

“Ms. MacKade, have you had the full tour?” Picard asked.

“Everywhere except the bridge,” she returned, “I’ve been waiting for my official guide.”

“Allow me,” the captain said, gesturing to the door, “Dr. Bashir?”

Julian, ever the gentleman, knew when to take his leave. “Actually, I’m expected in the Medbay. Dr. Crusher is waiting for me.”

Picard gave a curt nod of acknowledgement and strode away with Sam practically bouncing along side him, beaming the brightest smile Julian had ever seen from her. Dazzling. Like the sun coming out after the storm, a promise of better days ahead.


End file.
